Predilection
by Decadency
Summary: In the twenty-eighth hour of the twenty-ninth night, Bakura comes to Malik with a preposition. a preposition that very well could tear them apart forever. There is no escape from their predilection. On the twenty-eighth hour of the twenty-ninth night.


Predilection

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Leave me alone.

Pairing: BakuraxMalik

Rating: PG-13

_During the twenty eighth hour, the night will end  
it begins when the window is closed  
I don't want to undo the time I had here,  
yet there is no protection_

Bakura stepped into the room. It was dark. The twenty eighth hour of the twenty ninth day. It was time. Dark brown eyes glanced hesitantly at pale hands. Guilt arose before being brushed off carelessly. Peering around the room, Bakura saw a shock of spun gold in the otherwise light deprived room. "Malik…" came the whispered calling. He took a step forward and that was as far as he got before a dagger aimed at his heart sped blindingly toward him. Eyes widening in shock, Bakura stepped aside before he would be nothing but a corpse. Malik slowly got up from his bed to a sitting position. "Bakura?" Bakura gaped at Malik. Sitting on the bed with a hint of drowsiness still lingering in his features, to Bakura, Malik seemed inhuman. Malik seemed too pure. Lilac eyes abruptly widened, lunging forward, Malik grabbed Bakura and shook him. "Bakura, did something happen?" Waking up from his stupor, Bakura gently shook his head. Nothing was wrong, nothing except that the window to his heart had closed. Lifting his head up, dark chocolate eyes clashed with lilac. "I have to go." Came the whispered reply. Malik dropped Bakura's shirt and stared at Bakura. "What? Why?" Biting his lip, Bakura stared back at Malik with fierce determination, "Because…I have no protection." Puzzlement crossed the tanned Egyptian's features. "From what?" Bakura stared at the floor, "From you…" came the response. "Eh?" came the sudden intelligent reply. The regret that overcame Bakura changed into a sudden outburst of hate. "Do you want to know?" came the harsh whispered question. A timid yes was heard. Whipping around Bakura sneered at Malik's horrified look.

_I want a scar to remain on you  
__shutting you in this diorama  
__passing by, I shouted and tried to lash out  
__yet nothing I heard exceeded my predilection_

The dagger from earlier was still located in his hand. Smiling, Bakura beckoned for Malik to step closer. Malik stepped forward, an expression of curiosity on his face. With a sudden force that was unexpected, Bakura turned Malik around so that his scars were showing. Tracing the scars with one pale finger while twirling the ornately designed dagger with the other, Bakura hissed. "Your Father was a cruel man" Malik winced at the unwanted memories, "I know. I know…" Bakura smiled a wicked smile, "Do you know what I would have done to him if he were still alive?" Malik shrugged as if to say that he didn't know. "I would have ripped out his heart and made him watch it still beating." Came the whispered reply. Malik's eyes widened and his heart began to pound. "Bakura…" A maniacal smile tore through Bakura's face as he brought the dagger close to Malik's face. "I would do it because I'm the only one who's supposed to be able to control you. I am the only one who will scar you." As if to prove his point, Bakura dragged the dagger across Malik's cheek. Moments later, blood began to appear. Slow, red, and filled with a substance that was sleek and yet heavy. Malik hissed and glared at Bakura. "What?" Licking the dagger, Bakura smiled, "You heard me. I want to leave a permanent scar on you." Malik shoved Bakura away and stepped back. "No…No…" Bakura advanced toward Malik and he lashed out at Malik, cutting the Egyptian beauty even more with the dagger. "Really, hmm?" Malik bit back a hiss as the cold metal came to touch his arm. "Do you want to know why I'm leaving? Do you want to know why I'm hurting you?" Lilac eyes stared defiantly at dark chocolate orbs. "It's really quite simple."

_Even if you breathe, it isn't possible  
__under these circumstances  
__the love that stays strong is superior_

Anticipation built up. It was suffocating, however, Malik was still breathing. The bloody stains marring his beauty, or accumulating it. He didn't know. "I love you," came the simple reply. Malik had no time to react to the sharp blade that slashed an 'x' on his other arm. There was no possibility that Malik would still love him under these circumstances. Love and superior did not belong in one sentence. An appropriate term would be bullshit. Lilac eyes reflected bewilderment and pain. Softly, in an almost imperceptible voice, Malik questioned Bakura. "Then why do you want to scar me?" Bakura stopped and eyed the dagger carefully. "Because…"

_Can't get enough, it's more than words  
__don't let me down, I want it to be revealed  
__one more night, even if a scar remains  
__the eyes you look into were the first you saw_

Lilac eyes flashed and narrowed. Malik licked his own blood away and stared at Bakura with an unwavering glare. "Go on…" he hissed. Bakura flinched at the venom laced into the words. "I…" Malik interrupted. "Bullshit." Confusion was written on Bakura's normally arrogant face. Malik shoved Bakura against the wall. Lilac wrestled with chocolate. The dagger struck and sliced Malik from his upper arm down to his hand. Malik was unwilling to scream and so opted for a sharp intake of breath. Bakura grinned, "That's going to leave a scar on you."

_I was only born to betray  
__my lips, in the end, feel sharp  
__you're lost in a cloud of meaningless reason  
__in your foolish predilection_

Malik grimaced, "So, are you satisfied? You're almost as bad as my Father." Bakura flashed his sharp teeth, "Don't you ever compare me to that beast." Malik stared at Bakura, "But isn't what you're doing so much worse than what my father did? You're betraying your best friend." Bakura snarled, "I was born to betray. I am a part of darkness. It's in my nature." A sudden touch to Bakura's heart surprised him as he stared at Malik's hand. "Then, weren't you also born to care?"

_There is no longer a solid beam  
__from this room  
__you will quickly be rescued_

The moonlight flashed. Striking Malik from the back. His golden hair contrasted with the tender light, his eyes stared at the single beam. From Bakura's point of view, Malik looked like an angel. A fallen and bloody angel. Bakura jerked out of his reverie and screamed. "I HATE you! Everything about you makes me HATE you!"

_Can't get enough of this beautiful midnight  
__Don't let me down, I'll still run to you  
__one more night, which of us will never escape?  
__I wish I knew the truth._

Malik remained in the same position, unmoving, and as still as a statue. His shoulders drooped and Malik grimaced. "So, you're escaping…aren't you?" Bakura gaped. "You're leaving me to suffer with the wound of your burden, aren't you?" Malik's tone was soft, not accusing. "You want me to deal with this mess while you skip off free." Bakura protested. Malik silenced Bakura with a glare and continued on, "If you truly felt for me, both of us could have escaped. You are a thief, a thief of hearts, and a thief of my life." Bakura had no heart to protest. And so both figures stood there, one contemplative, the other searching for a non-existent truth.

_Can't get enough of your heavy heart or face  
__don't let me down, I'll wipe you clean of the pain  
__one more night of true love  
__will you ever be mine?_

None of them broke, they stood there, in the same posture as ever. Bakura's anguish was barely visible as he took another lick of the dagger. He relished the way the Egyptian's blood tasted. It was tangy and vibrant with life. Yet as much as Bakura hated to admit, Malik was not his. Malik was too strong to be labeled anyone's possession. Malik was too strong for the Thief King, too strong for the Pharaoh that had tried to claim him, and, Malik had refused to give in to his darker side. In an ironic sense, Malik controlled everyone, it was he, Bakura, who was the possession of Malik. "My life's blood…It belongs to no one. Why should it?" Downcast lilac eyes stared at the streams of blood that ran like rivers down his arm. Bakura advanced a step but apparently was not invited. A hidden set of daggers targeted him and nearly pierced him. "Back off," came the warning from Malik. "I will not belong to you. I refuse to be stolen by you."

_Even when it began  
__it was lost  
__this game doesn't seem to end - will it?_

Bakura laughed. "Before this began, I had already lost you to your shadows. If I don't escape, this little charade will last forever. Do you want this to last forever? A never ending game of cat and mouse?" Malik stared at Bakura and looked up at the moon, "I don't know. I don't know anything. The world has turned wholly upside down." Bakura was perturbed, "When? Since I confessed?" Malik never removed his eyes from the moon, "Since the day I carried these scars." Bakura hissed and approached Malik. There was no movement, it was as if Malik had turned into some angel, forever cursed to stare at the heavens and the single shaft of moon. And yet….and yet, there were tears at the corner of his eyes. Little droplets that mixed with his blood. "A lost child looking for a reason to live in this world."

_Can't get enough, it's more than words  
__don't let me down, I want it to be revealed  
__one more night, even if a scar remains  
__the eyes you look into were the first you saw_

Malik twitched. "Lost…?" Malik picked up his arm and licked the blood off, and then he began to work on his tears. Streaking them all over his face. He looked torn and utterly hopeless. If someone would only have painted the scene in front of him, if only someone had the talent worthy of capturing Malik in the moonlight during midnight. "Lost. You are strong Malik, that's why I was captivated by you in the first place. I ran to you before but you're walking away from me now." Malik examined his bleeding cuts and silently whispered to the silent moon, "I guess I'm never going to escape."

_Can't get enough of this beautiful midnight  
__Don't let me down, I'll still run to you  
__one more night, which of us will never escape?  
__I wish I knew the truth._

The sun was rising and time was running out. Bakura turned away and silently exited the room. Unshed tears and a twist in his heart reminding him of the burden that Malik would have to carry for the rest of his life. "Never Mine…" Malik stood in his room, unmoving and smiled. "I will find you Bakura." Both minds too stubborn to give in, both hearts too proud to beat together, and, both thoughts reaching the same conclusion. "Don't let me down. If your strength pulls through, it will be enough." And so the legend goes, one forever in captivity bearing a scar and the other running from his troubles. The legend of the twenty-eighth hour of the twenty-ninth night. "My beloved predilection…"

_Can't get enough of your heavy heart or face  
__don't let me down, I'll wipe you clean of the pain  
__one more night of true love  
__will you ever be mine?_

_Can't get enough  
__don't let me down   
__one more night_

_Can't get enough  
__don't let me down   
__one more night..._

_Can't get enough..._


End file.
